


Light My Spark

by end_alls



Category: Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: First Date, M/M, alcohol use (but responsibly), just a nice time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26549047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/end_alls/pseuds/end_alls
Summary: In which Cloud is really good at motorcycles and watching bad action movies, and Zack is really good at getting a crush on him
Relationships: Zack Fair/Cloud Strife
Comments: 12
Kudos: 105





	Light My Spark

“Hey—” Zack nudged his shoulder. “Cloud!”

The infantryman jumped at his name, but managed not to drop the canteen he was holding.

“You about ready to clock out?”

Cloud gave him a little nod. “Yeah, why?”

“There’s supposed to be a great bar in town. Wanna grab a couple drinks later?” They’d been working a lot together, but Zack figured they were about due to hang out together _outside_ of work, and Cloud, who always seemed a little wound-up, could do with some un-winding.

Cloud fidgeted with the twist cap of the canteen. “Is it allowed? Like, for us?”

Zack clapped him on the shoulder. “Course it is!” And when Cloud didn’t yet seem convinced, “We can dress down if you want—go as regular old civvies.”

Cloud considered. “I guess that’d be okay.”

Then, force of habit, Zack said, “Then it’s a date!” When Cloud raised his eyebrows, Zack amended, “Then it’s a deal! We can take my bike into town.”

Cloud smiled at that. “Yeah, sounds good. Meet you down there after I clock out and change.”

The two of them circled back up in the garage later. Zack had changed into a black v-neck and dark pants—not too different from his usual garb, if he was being honest—but Cloud showed up in a white t-shirt, brown leather jacket, and some worn denim jeans tucked into his usual boots. It was a simple outfit, but it fit him so perfectly it might as well have been tailor-made to drape across Cloud’s frame just right. He looked amazing.

Zack shook it off. He was probably just surprised to see Cloud in something other than the regulation uniform.

“Which bike is yours?” Cloud pulled him out of his… whatever it was going on in his head. Cloud had started examining the motorcycles in the garage, even crouching down to get a closer look at one of the nicer ones.

“You have an excellent eye, good sir…” Zack said aristocratically, then, “I see a guy working on that one all the time. Must be a real gear-head.”

“I can tell,” Cloud said appraisingly. “It’s all custom parts, six cylinders—not like that one.” Cloud had nodded, to Zack’s despair, directly at his own bike.

Cloud must have seen his face drop, because his eyes widened with realization. “…Oh! Oh, Zack I didn’t mean—” he pivoted. “I mean, I’m sure it’s fine…”

“Fine?!” Zack said in mock horror, draping his arms across the machine protectively. “That’s my son you’re talking about!”

Cloud stifled what Zack was pretty sure was a snort. “You treat your family like that? It looks like the oldest bike in here. Doesn’t Shinra let you upgrade?”

“Hey, if it runs, it runs!” he said defensively, but Cloud’s expression seemed doubtful. “Look, the mechanic keeps it working fine and I don’t wanna junk a perfectly good bike just because they’ll let me have a nicer model.”

Cloud was quiet at that, and then he pursed his lips and rubbed his nose with his hand. “Let’s get going,” he said, a little muffled by his hand, and Zack could tell he was trying to hide a smile.

“You got it,” Zack mounted the motorcycle, turned the key, and revved the engine.

It didn’t even attempt to turn. He and Cloud exchanged glances, and Zack didn’t appreciate anything of what Cloud’s was saying.

Zack tried again.

Nothing.

And again.

No dice.

He tilted his head up at the ceiling of the garage, and did his best not to let any _whine_ into his voice as he said, “The mechanic’s off by now—he won’t be back til morning.” Zack dragged a hand down his face. “Might have to take a rain check on the bar.”

“Says you,” Cloud said. He wheeled over one of the garage’s tool carts, then proceeded to start rooting around in the drawers. “Aha!” He pulled out some kind of round gauge with a thin hose attached to it.

“What are you gonna do?”

“Compression check,” Cloud said with the same cadence he’d use to say the word “obviously”, and gave the gauge a little shake as punctuation.

Next he put on a pair of gloves and safety goggles from the tool cart as Zack pictured a doctor prepping for surgery. Cloud kneeled down next to the bike, popped off part of the shell and crouched down to see what he was working with. ”Not too bad, but I bet we could order some better parts in, get some of this stuff replaced.” Cloud rubbed his finger on an especially dirty part of the interior. “…Maybe have a long chat about proper maintenance.”

“That a promise?” Zack asked.

Cloud rolled his eyes and took the cap off of what Zack was pretty sure was where the spark plug went, unscrewed it, then screwed in the hose of the compression gauge.

“You got an owner’s manual for your model?”

“Yes, Doctor,” Zack nodded, and pulled out his phone. It’d been downloaded to the Utilities section, and he could say with confidence that he had not looked at it once.

“Give it here.” Cloud held out his hand, and Zack gave him the phone with the manual pulled up on it. “And crank the engine for me.”

Zack walked to the other side of the motorcycle, relieved to be able to help without getting in the way, and revved the engine. After a few seconds, Cloud said, “Kay, that’s good.”

He started jotting down the readings on a scrap of paper from the cart. “And we’ll repeat for each cylinder. If it’s not this, it could be the spark plug, and that’s an easy enough swap-out. If it was cleaning the carburetor, we’d be here all night.”

“They can get dirty?”

“Yeah, and they’re a pain to clean on account of all the small little pieces you gotta reassemble when you’re done. Not too hard, just takes a while. It’d probably be good to do anyway, later when we have more time.”

Zack let out a whistle. “You really know your bikes, huh?”

“This is basic stuff, Zack,” Cloud said with a smile. “What kind of SOLDIER are you?”

“Aw, stop giving me shit, you prodigy. I’ve never once in my _life_ disassembled and reassembled a carburetor.”

Cloud shrugged sheepishly. “Well, I’mean, what else’s there to do in Nibelheim?”

Zack grinned at the appearance of Cloud’s accent, but didn’t say anything in case pointing it out would make Cloud pack it back into whatever box he kept it in. They began the next part of the compression test.

“So you repaired motorcycles?”

“It was more’of a hobby. Didn’t get paid nothin’, but I learned a lot by messin’ around in the local shop. B’fore long, the mechanic was lettin’ me do repairs, and eventually, I scraped up enough pieces t’ build my own bike.”

Zack hadn’t stuck to any project for very long when he was a teen—and he _definitely_ hadn’t ever built his own damn _motorcycle_. “How’d it run?” he asked, curious.

“Like shit,” Cloud laughed. “But it was all mine. Used to ride out to a ridge nearby were you could see all the stars’n the world.” His voice was fond as he took the readings on the next cylinder. Zack would’ve liked to have known him then. They probably could have talked about a lot, under the stars.

“You have any other hobbies besides bikes?”

“I mean…” Cloud shifted his shoulders. “Movies, I guess.”

“What kind?” Zack leaned his elbows on top of the bike.

“Action ’n stuff.”

“What’s your favorite?”

“C’mon, Zack—” Cloud waved his hand in a “forget it” sort of motion. “You’d think it’s stupid.”

That only made Zack smile wider. “Would not! C’mon, try me.”

Cloud huffed, then resumed his work. “There’s this series, called Gunmetal Rogue…”

“Oh! The one where the guy has a gun that turns into a sword?”

That got a laugh out of him. “No—no—” And for a moment, Zack thought he’d gotten it completely wrong, but then Cloud added, “—it’s a sword that turns into a gun.”

Zack leaned hard into a guffaw. “Oh! Oh, that changes things completely!”

Cloud’s laugh was electric. “Like you wouldn’t _believe,”_ he said.

Zack couldn’t wipe the smile off his face if he tried. “Think you could show me ‘em sometime?” he asked, hoping there were at least a dozen.

Cloud eyed him, maybe a little incredulously. “…You’d wanna see ‘em? There’s 5 of ‘em so far.”

“‘Course! Sounds like I’m missing out on some prime cinema—not knowing the difference between a _gun-sword_ and a _sword-gun.”_

Cloud chuckled, finishing with the readings he was jotting down. “Well by the end of it, you’ll’ve seen a sword-gun- _bazooka.”_

“Spoilers!” Zack chided.

“Something to look forward to.” Cloud cocked a wink—the big safety goggles only serving to make it more adorable—then moved to unplug the compression gauge as Zack tried to stop his cheeks from going pink.

“Readings aren’t telling me much. Next we’ll test the spark.” He looked up at the lights in the garage, but Zack was still looking at _him._ “It’s easier to see if there’s a spark in the dark.”

“Sounds romantic,” Zack said, without really thinking, but Cloud seemed too focused on the work to notice. He attached the spark plug to its cap, then set it to rest on a metal part of the engine where electricity could conduct through it.

“I don’t think these garage lights turn off…” Cloud cupped his hands to shadow the spark plug. “Can you try turning the engine?”

“S-Sure.” Zack cranked the ignition again while Cloud leaned in to look at the spark plug.

“Yeah—no spark.”

Zack begged to differ.

Cloud uncupped his hands and went to rifle through the tool cart again. “Nice—looks like they have an extra standard-issue spark plug in here.” He produced it, and moved back over to install it while Zack watched his hands flex beneath the leather gloves.

When he was done, instead of asking Zack to try again, Cloud suddenly stood, swung a leg over the seat, mounted the bike, put his hand over where Zack’s was resting on the ignition, and turned their hands together.

Cloud’s face sparked alongside the motorcycle. “Look at _that!”_ he cheered as Zack hoped the sound of it revving miraculously to life had been enough to drown out the BA-DUMP his heart made in his chest. He withdrew his hand in case Cloud could somehow feel it in his pulse.

“They better raise your salary,” Zack laughed, somehow breathless. “You could give the shop mechanic a run for his money.”

“Oh no no—this is between you and me,” Cloud said, jabbing a finger at him as he climbed back off the motorcycle. “Word gets out, and the next thing I know, they’ll have me benched and fixing bikes all day, ‘stead of out training.”

Zack rubbed the back of his head. “Guess you’re right,” he said. “Well, your secret’s safe with me… as long as I can count on the services of Mr. Strife the next time my bike decides to revolt on me. Which, from what I’ve heard on good authority, could be soon.”

Cloud flashed him a grin, then went to pack the tools, gloves, and goggles back into the cart with the diligence of a boy scout. When he turned back to Zack, sans safety goggles, his eyes were shining a bright and charming grey-blue. “A’right. Ready?”

Zack pried his eyes off him to look down at the bike. “…Cloud… You wanna drive?”

Cloud gawked. “Me? But it’s your bike.”

“It’s _our_ bike now, Cloud,” Zack said, giving it a pat. “We’d be hitch-hiking our way to the bar without you!” Cloud looked away, clearly fighting off a grin. “Besides, based on what you told me it sounds like you can ride a bike as well as fix one.”

“Guess so,” Cloud said. But he was already retreating back into the shell he seemed to spend a lot of his life in, and Zack wasn’t going to let him. He grabbed two helmets off the rack and tossed one to Cloud, who managed to catch it fumblingly.

“So show me what you’ve got!”

What Cloud “got”, was _game._

He wove them easily out of the garage, around crates and scattered bikes—Zack made note to do a better job at parking his properly in the future—and then they were out in the open night air.

Soon as they were free of the base, Cloud _gunned it,_ and Zack, with only a moment of anticipation to save himself from flying backwards off the bike, flung his hands around Cloud’s waist. Once he had a good hold, though, Zack couldn’t help but notice how comfortably his hands seemed to fit into the soft dip below Cloud’s ribs.

Then Cloud nearly shook him off again with a sharp turn to avoid a barricade, and Zack had to renew his grip. “Tryin’ to get rid of me?” Zack’s voice was muffled by the helmet, but Cloud’s laughter rang out clear enough.

Emboldened by the rushing wind, Cloud became someone else. Or maybe he became the person he was supposed to be. He steered them around other vehicles on the road with the fluency of a fish in water, all at a speed that would’ve made Zack’s mother faint.

Zack had never seen someone so at home in the seat of a motorcycle, and holding onto him, Zack felt at home too. He would’ve trusted Cloud if he tried to clear a jump over a ravine with the worst bike in the garage—which, if he was being honest, was probably his.

They reached the bar faster than Zack had thought possible, and when Cloud brought them to a stop, the latent adrenaline left Zack’s hands trembling as he reluctantly removed them from Cloud’s waist. As they both pulled off their helmets and disembarked, Cloud’s eyes were practically _glowing,_ even without a drop of Mako.

“Whew!” he breathed.

“Wow,” Zack managed, heart railing against his ribs.

They parked the bike and made their way into the local bar, which was still decently lively despite their delay with the motorcycle. It was cozy with locals, and there was a decent-sized TV mounted on the wall that was playing an evening game show. Zack and Cloud settled into a couple free stools at the bar, close enough to bump elbows. After consulting the chalkboard menu between the shelves of bottles, Cloud ordered the bar’s Ifrit-themed drink, and Zack went with Titan.

“Is that your favorite kind of drink? Rum?” Zack asked as they watched the bartender make Cloud’s white rum and curaçao with orange juice.

“Just sounded good,” Cloud shrugged. “I don’t really drink much.”

“Then why’d you agree to come out to a bar?” Zack laughed.

“Idunno,” Cloud said sheepishly. “Seemed fun.”

The bartender finished mixing Zack’s beer and ginger ale and pushed both drinks forward to them.

“Am I just that charming?” Zack asked playfully.

“Well…yeah.” Cloud picked up his drink and held it out for a toast, but Zack’s brain remained stuttering on those two words for a few more seconds before his hand managed to catch up with it. He clinked his glass with Cloud’s, and they each took a sip.

They settled comfortably into the evening, chatting about the day and what they had slated for the rest of the week, and then conversation departed from work and settled into more casual chatter about how both their moms had this thing about always making enough stew to last an entire week.

“And I’d always be like, ‘Mom, we do _not_ need this much stew.’”

“And she’d be like, ‘But it keeps so well!’” Cloud finished, sending the two of them into a fit of laughter.

Then someone changed the channel on the TV, and the screen flipped to show a man’s muscled, scarred back just before he pulled on a tattered leather jacket.

“Ohohoh, this is the one—Zack—” Cloud pulled on his arm to get his attention, even though he’d already had it for most of the evening. “This’s it! Gunmetal Rogue!”

With all the LOVELESS quotes that had been flung around at him since he’d joined SOLDIER, Cloud’s adoration for what were undoubtedly the _worst_ action movies in the hemisphere was downright refreshing.

Zack cupped his chin in his hand and watched Cloud stare, enraptured, as a muscled-out mercenary used a clockwork-looking longsword to dispatch droves of enemies before he, as promised, turned the longsword into a _gun_ and used it to pick off enemies at long range. There was too much chatter in the bar to hear a lot of the dialogue, and without subtitles he would’ve been out of luck if Cloud wasn’t quoting the lines alongside the titular Gunmetal Rogue himself. (Zack had already forgotten Gunmetal’s actual name, and the leading lady wasn’t around to scream it at him pleadingly from her motorcycle to help remind him.)

“I already said I’m not here to make friends,” Cloud said darkly just as Gunmetal shouldered the plucky rookie character out of his way.

Zach took another sip of his drink, letting it hum in him pleasantly as his eyes fell to Cloud’s lips. They were well-shaped and expressive, and he found himself hanging on each arc as they formed one bad movie quote after another.

“Right here’s the best part.”

Zack drew his eyes reluctantly back to the TV in time to see Gunmetal climb up onto the front hood of a motorcycle, sword drawn, as the leading lady moved from behind him to handle the steering. Gunmetal then proceeded to mow down a squadron of enemies on their own bikes by slashing his sword back and forth, then finally throwing it like a boomerang to send at least a dozen motorcycles into spin-outs. Cloud pumped his fists like he was watching the event live.

They finished up the movie with a couple of sodas when Cloud didn’t seem interested in more drinking beyond than that, and even with most of the alcohol out of his system, Zack’s head felt light and bubbly by the time the credits rolled onscreen. Cloud seemed much the same, smiling like a puppy after a good romp through the wheat fields—and who wouldn’t be, after watching Gunmetal accelerate his motorcycle out into the rising sun? It was just like Gunmetal told the leading lady after they shared a passionate finale kiss (but before an electric guitar riff kicked off the credits): “That one left the rest… in the dust.”

Cloud gave a few claps by way of applause, and Zack couldn’t wait to watch every one of these awful movies with him.

Zack paid their tab at his insistence—to cover the service fee for the bike—and then at Cloud’s insistence the two of them walked to a nearby dusty park to finish sobering up before they headed home on the bike.

They climbed their way up a jungle gym with a flat plastic roof, and sat back to look at the sky. The town was small, but its lights were still enough to erase a few of the stars into the black velvet of night.

“Thanks for watching that whole movie with me,” Cloud said. “Well, the last 45 minutes I guess.”

“Thanks for coming out to a bar even though you don’t like drinking,” Zack volleyed back.

Cloud swung his dangling feet back and forth. “’s fine… with th’ right people.” he mumbled. “Right person.” And Zack felt the same.

And then, right there, Zack realized how lonely the SOLDIERing life had been. It hadn’t really hit him before, that there were these divides, between him and everyone else—between him and veterans, between him and rookies. He’d been put in this limbo where he couldn’t live up to what either of them wanted from him.

But sitting here with Cloud, on top of sun-warped plastic, they were just two guys who’d fixed a motorcycle, gone for a ride, and watched the better part of a shitty movie together. It was like being a country teenager again, when he’d never had to think about rank or duty. It was like being back home.

“So, Zack,” Cloud began awkwardly, kicking his boots. “Was this a date?”

“What?” Zack asked, more out of surprise than anything else.

Cloud became very absorbed with the toes of his shoes. “You, uh, said that before—‘It’s a date.’”

“Oh. I just—” Zack was about to say, _I just say that sometimes_ , but there was something expectant in Cloud’s posture that stopped him. Dinner and drinks and a movie… There really wasn’t anything there to deny it—not if he was being honest with the way tonight had made him feel. “I mean, it can be.” If Cloud wanted it. And Zack found himself wanting Cloud to want it.

Cloud finally looked back at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Zack said, suddenly buoyed by the simplicity of it. “Yeah, it’s a date.”

Cloud bit back a smile, and returned his attention to the ground below them.

“So… why’d you ask _me_ out?” Cloud’s brow knit then. “Like… me, and not someone else.”

“Who else was I supposed to ask?” Zack elbowed him gently. “Someone who couldn’t build a motorcycle with a blindfold on? Or maybe someone who couldn’t quote the entirety of _Gunmetal Rogue: Part I?”_

It was hard to tell in the low light, but Cloud’s ears looked flushed. “…They only added the _Part I_ to the title after they made the third movie,” he finally said.

Zack wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “See? That’s what I’m talking about. You try and find me anyone who can match what you’ve got going on, Cloud.” He let his hand fall down to rest, perfectly, on Cloud’s waist. “You’re amazing, just as you are.”

Cloud’s eyes flicked back at him, then returned to the ground below. Zack felt his shoulders rise and fall as he took a deep breath, and then Cloud turned and kissed him.

It was brief and shy—lasting just long enough for Zack to feel the shape of Cloud’s lips and the warmth of his breath—but still he gripped his hands on the edge of the roof to keep himself from swooning.

As they both pulled back, Cloud gently cleared his throat and said, in the same tone as Gunmetal Rogue, “That one left the rest… in the dust.”

Zack snorted right in Cloud’s face, and the two of them nearly bumped heads as they burst out laughing. Eventually, Zack caught his breath, their eyes met… and they started laughing again.

“Here I was, thinking my flirting wasn’t getting through, and then you go and pull _that?”_ Zack said, almost wheezing.

Cloud had used his hand to cover his face, which was no-doubt bright red. “I—I—” He was laughing too hard, and had to take a few breaths and try again. “I don’t know _what_ possessed me—”

“The spirit of Gunmetal Rogue, clearly.”

Cloud lost it again.

“I don’t know about leaving the rest in the dust, though,” Zack managed. “I think I can do one better.”

Cloud let out one more chuckle, then schooled his face into tenuous solemnity. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Zack returned his hand to Cloud’s waist, used the other one to cup his cheek, and kissed him back. He closed his eyes, letting a twinge of vertigo hit his senses as their feet dangled from the top of the jungle gym. He leaned into Cloud, and soon felt Cloud’s hands come to wrap up around his back, shyly as his kiss, and he felt as weightless as they had on the motorcycle. Their lips moved together, fit together as smoothly as Zack’s hand on his waist.

Eventually they parted, and Zack followed Cloud’s eyes up to the stars.

“Back home—when I’d drive out to that ridge?” Cloud began. “I did it to feel like I could get away from everything, if I wanted. To be someone else, somewhere else. Under a sky that big, I could be anything.”

“That why you left?” Zack asked.

Cloud nodded, but he was frowning slightly. “I thought that’d solve things. But it didn’t, really. It’s different here, but kind of the same,” he said. “I’m still not really anything.”

“Have you not been listening?” Zack interrupted, and when Cloud looked at him, slightly surprised, he went on. “Cloud, you’re fine as you are.” He wrapped his fingers around Cloud’s, and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t have anything you need to prove to anyone, but especially not me.”

Cloud smiled, this time letting it spread across his face until his teeth came out like a crescent moon in the night. “…Thanks, Zack.” Cloud’s accent brushed across the top of the words like a breeze, and Zack wanted to kiss him all over again. Cloud rubbed the back of his neck. “Guess it’s getting late, huh?” The accent was gone again, too soon.

“Guess so,” Zack conceded. “…One for the road?” he asked, tapping a finger on his face.

“What?" Zack tapped again. "Oh! Sure,” Cloud chuckled, and pecked him on the cheek.

As they reached the spot where they’d parked the bike, Zack suddenly stopped.

“Wait,” he remembered. “What about your motion sickness?”

“What about it?” Cloud asked.

“Why didn’t you get sick on the way here?”

“Doesn’t happen when I’m driving,” Cloud said, pulling one of the helmets out of the side case. “Not when I know how something’s gonna move.”

Zack gaped. “But… you were gonna let me drive! You were gonna ride on a bike, feel awful, drink when you don’t drink, and not even say _anything?”_

Cloud had already put the helmet on to hide his face. “Guess you’re as charming as you think.”

Zack gasped, aghast, and bopped him on the side of his helmet. “That’s no excuse! Just tell me next time! Jeez!”

“Next time, huh?”

He put a hand on either side of Cloud’s helmet and gave it a playful shake. “Yeah, yeah, just you wait—I’m gonna make you sorry you ever offered to help me spruce up my bike. I’m gonna be like, ‘What’s a carburetor?’ and like, ‘What’s the difference between a _gun-sword_ and a _sword-gun,_ again?’, until you couldn’t find me charming if you tried!”

“All right, all right, I give!” Cloud put his hands on top of Zack’s to steady them. “No more secrets.”

“Hah!” Zack released him, then grabbed his own helmet from the motorcycle.

“But you have to hold up your end of the bargain,” Cloud warned.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“You have to watch all the _Gunmetal Rogue_ movies with me.”

“Oh, please,” Zack said, tucking the helmet under his arm. “That supposed to be a challenge?”

Cloud climbed onto the motorcycle. “You know how I said there were 5 of them?”

Zack nodded, eyes narrowing as Cloud revved the machine to life.

“I didn’t count the spinoffs.”

A grin spread across Zack’s face. “Bring it on, Strife.” He put his helmet on, climbed on behind Cloud, and slid his hands around his waist.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m just sayin all that coordination on a motorcycle doesn’t come from NOWHERE, even if all that Mako improved Cloud’s strength and reflexes. Let him be good at motorcycle
> 
> BIG shoutout to Matthew over at HOWTOMOTORCYCLEREPAIR.COM for teaching me all about the 3 Things to Look for When your Motorcycle Won’t Start. I watched motorcycle videos about as much as I listened to Orville Peck's cover of Smalltown Boy as research for this
> 
> I also had them wear helmets even if it covers up their nice hair, because you should always wear a helmet. Cloud and Zack taught us about some very important safety precautions today. Thank you
> 
> Lastly, I inflicted psychic damage upon myself looking up [the menu for Square Enix’s ARTNIA cafe](http://www.jp.square-enix.com/artnia/menu/) to find some fun cocktails to put in here. god. I had a cappuccino and a sea salt ice cream there last year and it changed my life. What I would give to go back there.. someday
> 
> I'm on twitter at [toppiegames](https://twitter.com/toppiegames)!


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